


all i need is a life in your shape

by annperkinsface



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:05:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annperkinsface/pseuds/annperkinsface
Summary: He doesn't know what to think, what to feel. Nothing makes sense, not until he comes home and stands in front of the life he's made.





	all i need is a life in your shape

There's a crystal clarity in the heat of battle, in the power coursing through his veins, the blood pounding in his ears. Outside of it, Nero sits in the front seat of Nico's van and pages through a book, trying to find the man that is his father in the words. He doesn't have much of a head for poetry, though he's had to memorize more than his share of verses growing up, and after a while Nero gives it up and tosses it back on the dashboard with a scowl. He slumps back in his seat and sighs, holds his right arm up to the light, tilting it this way and that, wondering about phantoms of phantom limbs. No stump or metal or scales and hide, just pale human flesh, for once all his power contained carefully inside.

He doesn't know what to think, what to feel. Nothing makes sense, not until he comes home and stands in front of the life he's made. He has Nico distract the kids while he looks for Kyrie and finds her in the kitchen, up to her elbows in dishwater. For a long moment Nero just stands and looks, his throat tightening strangely. Her hair is down and her back is turned and she's wearing a sweater he doesn't recognize over a dress Nico got her, a knitting project she must have finished when he was away, looking soft and comfortable and like everything he's ever wanted, everything he will never believe he deserves.

"Kyrie,” Nero says and there's clarity here too, softer but no less profound than the kind he experiences in a fight. His breath slows. His mind and heart quiet. Her name in his voice a magic trick that banishes the ghosts, making the world a little less sharp and confusing. Kyrie’s back stiffens and Nero wants to go to her, to rest a gentle hand on the curve of her spine and press down until he feels the tension holding her ramrod straight seep out of her, but by the time the thought flashes through his mind she's already turned to look at him, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Nero,” she breathes and then she’s stepping forward to meet him, stumbling into his arms. He catches her around the waist, barking out a laugh, and she upturns her face, smile luminescent and all for him.

"Hey," Nero says, eyes and mouth soft, and bends to kiss her. Kyrie laughs into it and they end up smiling against each other’s mouths, Kyrie's hands coming up to cradle his face. They’re wet and covered with soap and it’s a testament to how much he loves her that Nero really does not give a shit.

“Nero,” Kyrie says, pulling back, a look of realization on her face. Hands dropping from his cheeks and clasping in front of her chest, over the pendant he left in that church pew for her a lifetime ago, and Nero's fingers, flesh and blood and his, tighten incrementally on her waist. "Your hand—”

He shakes his head fondly, lifting up his right hand and wiggling his fingers with a smirk.

"Told ya I had a surprise," Nero says, all but grinning, and lets Kyrie grab his hand, turning it over in disbelief. He can't help but shiver when she touches it reverently, tracing her fingers over the lines of his palm, bending and straightening each one of his fingers. It's been a month since he lost his arm, a month since he only felt pain or the absence of it, but now for Kyrie to be touching him so gently and Nero actually being able to feel the accompanying physical sensation— He swallows, feeling like a livewire.

Kyrie looks up, her eyes enormous in her face. “But how?”

"Would you believe me if I said it just grew back?"

“Of course I would,” says Kyrie and Nero's face floods with heat when she brings the inside of his hand up to her mouth, pressing her smile there. She lingers and then lets go and Nero's hand immediately finds its place on her waist. She brushes a thumb over his cheek, smile widening. “It's you after all. Stranger things have happened, right? Especially to us.”

Nero wants to smile lopsidedly, say _You don't know the half of it_ , but there is an old fear rearing its ugly head, catching at his throat and swallowing the words. Kyrie sees it on his face and frowns, reaching for his face again, but Nero swallows, takes a few steps back, all pinched mouth and furrowed brow.

“It's not just my arm,” Nero says. “There’s something else.”

Kyrie's frown deepens. Nero hates it, wanting nothing more than to hold her until it goes away, but he clenches his fists, holding himself apart. “Tell me,” she says, soft but firm, steel wrapped in satin.

Nero closes his eyes against the way Kyrie is looking at him and Triggers. His hair lengthens. Horns sprout from his head. Wings from his back. His skin hardens, changing color and texture. Nero stands in their kitchen, fully a demon for the first time, not a trace of recognizable humanity, and waits with his heart in his throat, Kyrie's sharp inhale the loudest sound in the world.

A heartbeat passes. One, two. The old fear has a vice grip on his heart, his lungs. He is the strongest he's ever been but the longer the silence drags on Nero feels weak. Powerless. He's about to cancel the transformation in a moment of cowardice when Kyrie steps back into his space and gently sweeps the fringe out of his eyes. It startles them open and his breath hitches at the tenderness in her face being the first thing he sees.

Kyrie smiles at him, the curve of her mouth gentle enough to break his heart. "You're beautiful," she says, fingers tracing the bone of his nose, the stripes on his cheeks, and wasn't that just like Kyrie, to look at the worst parts of him and find beauty when no one else would give him a second glance?

Nero shudders, keeping his claws in tight fists at his sides. Like this he could hurt her so easily. "I’m a demon,” he says, voice distorting, but Kyrie doesn’t even blink.

“You’re Nero,” says Kyrie. “I told you before, didn’t I? No one is more human than you.” She stands on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth. Under her eyes, lips, hands, Nero is soft and malleable. His hands unfurl just like that, settling with utmost delicateness on her hips. He tilts his head to meet her, swallowing the happy noise she makes into his mouth. She pulls away to look at him, flushed and beaming. “Arm or no arm,” Kyrie says, eyes bright. “Wings or no wings. I love you. All of you.”

Kyrie has a way of seeing to the heart of him, of knowing exactly what he needs to hear when he needs to hear it. His heart and throat swell in tandem and Nero kisses her, hardly noticing when the transformation ends. Words have never been his strong suit, not like they are hers, but Nero knows the right ones this time.

"Thank you," Nero says, leaning their foreheads together. He thinks of V, of his confession that he only wanted to be protected and loved. Thinks of how differently his life might have turned out without Kyrie to light his way, to make every day better just by having her in it. What is power without people to love and protect? Nero will do his damnedest to never find out. "I love you."

Kyrie laughs. "Silly," she says, warmly. "You can thank me by never running off again without telling me."

"Deal," Nero says, smiling like a fool. "Want me to cook dinner?"

"Please," Kyrie says, smiling back.

It’s not long before the kids come swarming in, Nico not far behind. He gets jumped and Nico and Kyrie laugh like assholes while he pulls helpless faces at them, the kids hanging like monkeys off his arms and back, chattering a million miles a minute. He answers each one of their questions with a patience he didn't know he had before these kids became a part of his life and Kyrie helps dice vegetables while he cooks, catching him up on the millions of small stories that make up a child's day.

“Joys upon our branches sit,” Nero murmurs during a lull, the words crystallizing in his mind the moment he glances at her downturned face. “Chirping loud and singing sweet.”

“Hm?” Kyrie says, looking up with a distracted smile, brushing her hair out of her face. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Nero says, smiling. “Just something I read.”

 

 

 _joys upon our branches sit,_  
_chirping loud and singing sweet;_  
_like gentle streams beneath our feet_  
_innocence and virtue meet._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes when you're starving for content you have to make your own food!!! anyway nero is my best boy and i love these kids and how Soft he is for kyrie so much
> 
> this was supposed to be a part of a longer thing but I don't feel super confident in my ability to write vergil yet tbh! i think it stands well on its own though


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